


You Feel Like Home

by TheGracefulDarkness



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: Alpha Anatoly, Alpha Vlad, Alpha/Omega, Anatoly is the only one who knows what's going on, Blind Matt, Confused Matt, Confused Vlad, Early in the show, Going to be multi-chap, It should go up, M/M, Rating may go up, anatoly is not dead, no one is dead, vladimir is not dead, will progress to later episodes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGracefulDarkness/pseuds/TheGracefulDarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alpha/Omega dynamics. It's just another night for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen - fighting bad guys and trying to find out the faceless leader who's orchestrating all crime. For the Russians it's just another night getting their asses handed to them by the masked man. Vladimir and Anatoly Ranskahov get an unpleasant surprise when the meet the vigilante omega for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Smell Shit?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, (The)GracefulDarkness here, posting another Mattimir fic. This one was a little rougher to write for me, so please if you see anything wrong with it call me out on it and I'll do my best to fix it. Also I'd like to give a huge thanks to Aid0Ink for beta-ing my story. I'll try to update this on a regular basis, especially since I'm almost done with school. Enjoy! Also check me out at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bloggingnstuff if you want to shoot me any ideas or au for these guys.

            The two brothers have been fighting for three days straight.

 

            “Vladimir, please listen to reason. Fisk is unpredictable, violent. Don’t let pride get best of you, not now. Not after all we been through,” pleads Anatoly, Russian accent prominent in his voice.

 

            “We are alphas of this pack, my brother, _not_ some American fuck head!”

 

            Anatoly heaves in a sigh, tired of having to explain this to his older brother. _America is strange land,_ he thinks, _it will lift you up just to have gravity crash you to ground._ That is what Fisk is: gravity. The last thing Anatoly wants to see is the ascent of the Ranskahov princes vanquished by bald headed men and his stubborn brother’s pride, he’s trying to save all that he can before it’s too late.

 

            “Do you want to die, is that it? You free us from captivity, bring me to America, build up this empire, just to watch it burn because of your need for title? Fisk will kill us if we fuck up again, you know this, brother.”

           

Vladimir paces back and forth, not willing to see reason just yet. He knows Fisk’s power over Hell’s Kitchen, knows the price of failure, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to give in and roll over just yet. Fisk wants to ‘oversee’ ventures that do not concern him and Vladimir would sooner have his throat ripped out than bow down to such a man.

           

“You know this is only option unless you want war on our hands,” Anatoly says softly.

           

“At least in war I would be own man, not someone’s lap dog bitch,” spits Vladimir.

           

“No, my brother, you would be dead. Please just let me do this, for us. Let us have life we deserve.”

           

“We do not deserve take over, we deserve respect.”

           

Vladimir glares hard at the dingy wall, not willing to give in. He sees his brother’s view, understands that he means well but the eldest brother cannot let Fisk take over. Not after all they’ve been through, they deserve so much better.

 

            Anatoly comes over towards Vladimir’s stiff form and squeezes tightly on his shoulder. “At least think about it, when less emotional and more… practical,” he urges.

           

At that moment Adrian – one of the low rankers in the pack – barges in, effectively cutting off any response that the alpha had. Hastily the pup says in Russian, “The man in black, he is here!”

           

“Shit,” the two slur in unison.

           

“Get vans out of here before cargo is lost,” Vladimir shouts at the thug.

           

Adrian nods, running out of the room. Vlad picks up a shotgun from one of the many workbenches covered in weapons. “Let us see how much of devil he truly is.”

           

Gunfire can be heard from the warehouse below, the contained explosions ringing through the night air. Anatoly snatches a shotgun of his own and two handguns, throwing one to his brother. Leaving the sanctuary of the overlook from the lot in which they made their home base, the brothers make their way down to the fight. Bodies are lying everywhere, notably alive from the sounds of pained gasps and moans, making Vladimir angrier at their defeat and Anatoly all the more cautious.

           

“Give me a name,” thunders a voice in the dim lighting.

           

“I will enjoy cutting out your tongue and lay it next to the others,” spits, Gregori, one of Vladimir and Anatoly’s betas.

           

The angry sounds of flesh hitting flesh triggers a series of wheezes and gasps out of the higher ranking pack member. “Name. Now,” demands the vigilante.

           

Vladimir, seizing the opportunity of surprise, shoots at the man in black from behind. Before the eldest brother’s eyes the hero spins around using his hostage as a shield. The bullet collides into Gregori’s shoulder, leaving the vigilante unscathed. It is quiet for a moment before the beta begins shouting out in pain, which is ignored by both the vigilante and the crime lords.

           

The masked man stills, his head cocked slightly to the side, nostrils flaring. Vladimir stalks up closer to the stranger, puffing up his chest in challenge. Anatoly follows in suit, shotgun pointed right on target. “Alphas,” the man says warily, still sniffing the air.

           

This annoys Vladimir. “Only coward hides behind mask and men,” he growls.

           

“Only an idiot would expose himself in front of his… enemies,” counters the vigilante, confusion easing its way into his tone as he continues to take deep breaths from his nose.

           

Each step closer, the stiffer the hero becomes and the more his nostrils flare. Vladimir bares his teeth. “Why do you smell us so much, mutt? Not used to scent of real alpha?”

           

“No,” he answers distractedly, “it’s… shit.”

           

This stops Vladimir, confused by the masked man’s words. “You smell shit?”

           

Anatoly walks past his brother, much to his displeasure. He watches his baby brother as he starts to circle slowly around the man. “You are omega,” Anatoly states.

           

This peeks Vladimir’s interest, he didn’t smell it before, masked by the stench of Gregori. It’s unusual though, omegas can be smelt from many distances away but this man is mere feet away and Vlad can only catch traces of the scent. As he sniffs something animalistic rises up in him, the urge to claim, mate. Both Vladimir and Anatoly have grown up around omegas and never has Vladimir felt such a desire as strong as this one. Of course he has had his share of omegas and betas but this is… different.

           

Anatoly senses this as well, the alpha in him rises up demanding to claim the omega standing under the horribly lit bulb. He has read of this somewhere before, long ago back when he and his brother were still princes of Moscow: a Proper Mate. A rarity among the world, only few pairs are to be found. Some believe that each and every alpha has an omega counterpart, but Anatoly never thought it true. Until now, he never gave the prospect of having a true partner in life besides his brother another thought. It was more of a fairytale than reality for him and his brother, something you told children to give hope.

           

The masked man throws Gregori to the ground, most likely smelling the increasing scent of testosterone and vanishes out of one the broken windows. Vladimir, who’s now trying to inhale every lingering evidence of the hero’s scent, doesn’t even think as he takes after him. Anatoly, on the other hand, hesitates for a moment, not sure if he should follow before realizing that his brother could kill the vigilante and he’d lose the only chance of a mate. He’s out the window and at his brother’s heels in moments.

           

Gregori, the forgotten beta, lays on the ground staring in disbelief at the window. He can’t quite grasp the fact that his alphas just up and left, leaving him to bleed out on the floor.    

…

           

 

Matt rushes out of the lot, panic rampant in his brain and senses. For the first time since he was a child he was truly blind. All he can smell is the overpowering scent of the alphas, the only sound in his ears is their strong heartbeats pounding against their chests, the taste of vodka won’t leave his lips. It feels like he’s drowning by sensation and there’s no escape. His breathing’s shallow and fast as he stumbles into an alleyway.

                       

He knows they’re after him, chasing him down like he’s their next meal, which, now that Matt thinks about it, might not be the farthest thing from the truth. _Focus, Matty. Breathe, what can you smell?_ Matt’s inner Stick guides. He inhales deeply through his nose, trying to make it past the smog of Russian alpha and doing his best not to lay on his back then and there. The fragrance of coffee wafts past the hero’s nose and he holds onto the scent like a lifeline. Quickly Matt traces the direction from where the aroma came from and runs. Every few steps Matt trips over either own feet or some obstacle that he would usually be able to sense and dodge.

Eventually Matt stumbled in front of what he believed was a café from the increasing smells of coffee beans, pastries, and an overwhelming amount of vanilla. Soon his hearing came back to him, but the echo of the two heartbeats still strummed methodically against his ears. People chitter about their business deals and the next installment of their novel while smooth jazz thrums in the background.

But all of that stops once he walks in; conversations stopping mid-sentence, the music cuts out, the only sounds Matt hears are the rumbling of coffee machines and the acceleration of heartbeats, and of course the two heartbeats that are growing ever closer. That’s when Matt remembers he’s running around as his alter-ego. _Shit,_ his mind helpfully supplies.

           

“Uhm,” the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen clears his throat, “one coffee… black.”

           

It’s at that moment the two Russians burst in and by the way the crowded room reacts and the smell of gun oil, they didn’t think to stash their weapons. Matt stiffens as two pairs of strong hands grasp both of his arms. Calloused fingers press against Matt’s biceps and he can’t help but shiver at the contact. As soon as the shiver swept down his spine, the two alphas leaned in closer. He could easily get out of their holds but Matt rationalizes that a fight in a crowded room of civilians isn’t the smartest of moves. While this is true, the hero admits that the pressure of two sets of strong hands isn’t the worst feeling in the world.

           

“No one call police and we leave quietly, understand?” Rumbles the one gripping his right arm.

           

Matt is somewhat disappointed, but not surprised, that no one tried to stop the Russians from dragging him out. They don’t take him down an alleyway, instead they walk him through the street in front of houses and stores. Matt lets them pull him around, not wanting a bullet to go off if he tries to run and hit one of the many beating heartbeats in the buildings. The more they walk, the less Matt sees, his senses once again being enraptured by their scent.

           

It’s like nothing he ever felt before, the closest he could describe it as is it’s like a drug. As if the brothers – he can tell from their almost identical scents – pumped themselves with a sedative that seeps out their pores. Matt can’t understand _why_ though, he has faced alphas before; it isn’t like he’s never fought an alpha on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen or brought one to justice in court and never once felt the urge to submit.  And yet here he is, slowly going limp as his eyes droop from listening to the rhythmic beat of their hearts; head lolling to the side, touching one of their shoulders. _He smells so good,_ Matt thinks as he nuzzles his face into the Russian’s shoulder.  

           

“What is wrong with him?” Matt hears faintly over the drumming.

           

“Hell if I know,” grunts the other.

           

There is a hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing small circles against his skin. Matt’s body goes lax and a moan breaks through his lips. Soon everything becomes too much, too unbearable. Matt lets his eyes close and slinks into unconsciousness.

 

…

The brothers look down at the unmoving form in their arms. “Is he dead?” Vladimir questions, somewhat concerned, his hand still cupped against the man’s neck.

 

“No. Sleeping… passed out,” Anatoly supplies after checking the hero’s pulse.

           

            Vladimir laughs quietly. “Some hero, sleeping in enemies’ arms like baby.”

 

            The older brother hoists the vigilante up, carrying him in his arms, much to Anatoly’s displeasure.

 

            “Perhaps I carry him, my brother?” He persuades, worried his brother might kill his potential mate.

 

”He is fine,” Vladimir states. In all truth he wanted an excuse to be closer to the man with the enticing scent that weaved its compelling tendrils into Vlad’s mind.              

 

            Anatoly nods but keeps close to the two, neither wanting to admit they didn’t want to hurt the masked man. Even if he has been single handedly destroying their empire. They speed up their pace, not wanting anyone to notice their activities.

 

            “Go get a car,” Vladimir says in Russian.

 

            Anatoly hesitates, not wanting to leave his brother’s side but pushes the distress away quickly. Vladimir wouldn’t do anything without Anatoly in his presence, it was simply how the two worked. The brothers shared a bond from birth and it only ever grew stronger since their time together in the cell in Russia. And Anatoly would be damned – more damned than he already is – before he would let anything break that unwavering trust in his brother.

 

            Vladimir takes notice in his brother’s pause and glares down at the omega in his arms. “Here,” he grunts, handing off his load to Anatoly. In Russian he mutters, “I will go find a car, stay here.” He stalks off into one of the many alleyways.

 

            Anatoly watches as his brother disappears. “Even in sleep, you still manage to cause trouble,” he murmurs against the unconscious man’s ear.

 

            The only reply he gets is the slight tilt of his head and some incoherent mumbling. Frowning, Anatoly takes in what little he can see of his face. There’s a bruise forming quite nicely on his cheek and blood oozing from his split lip. For a man who faced off at least twelve of Anatoly’s pack members, he’s surprisingly lacking in wounds. Still, he can’t help but feel the anger rise up at the thought of one of his betas attacking his Proper Mate. Everything is at war inside of him, his instincts demand to protect the omega in his arms but his mind is insistently urging for Anatoly to throw the man to the ground and eliminate the threat now.

 

            Instead Anatoly toys with the mask on the man’s face, debating on whether or not to rip it off. To see his enemy and mate for who he truly is. As if his face will give him any answers to his troubled mind. He dips a finger underneath the cloth, feeling the sweat beneath his eyes. Anatoly slowly raises the mask, not pulling it off, simply tugging against it, still unsure of what to do. The decision was taken away from him when a ratty old car pulls up next to him, the headlights off and the windows dark.

 

            Vladimir gets out of the car. “Trunk,” is all he says.

 

            Anatoly nods but his stomach is uneasy as he places the sleeping form next to the spare tire in the back. He knows that putting him in the backseat is not an option in case of a sudden awakening and the inevitable fight inside a moving vehicle leading the three to their deaths.

 

            The two brothers shut the trunk and slide into the car. Vladimir clutches the steering wheel hard, thinking as he puts distance from the café. Anatoly sits quietly next to him, the only noise coming from the growling engine. “We will go home,” Vladimir decides.

 

            “Home?” His brother questions.

           

“Yes,” he answers, looking straight ahead. “Safest place from Fisk and others.”

 

Anatoly looks strangely at his brother, curious as to why he wants to protect the masked man. It dawns on him in that moment as he takes in the tense muscles and terse scowl on his brother’s face. “You feel it too, the bond.”

 

Vladimir’s eyes slink over to his, anger and confusion swimming in his gaze. “Yes,” he whispers.

 

Anatoly nods. “Home it is.”


	2. You Make A Shitty Balloon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt does a lot of waking up in weird places in this chapter. Our hero's just not having a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more to get the characters on an even playing ground, kind of. It's more to clear the air than anything else. EDIT: A lovely thank you to aid0Ink and Murdork for fixing up a few of my errors! Tell me what you think in the comments and how I could improve this train wreck of a story.

            Matt wakes to the sound of an engine whirling and the jerking of his head hitting the surface beneath him.

 

            The felt flooring scratches annoyingly against his skin and he’s pretty sure part of his body is draped over a tire. Sliding his hands across the carpet and against the roof of what he assumes is the trunk of a car, he breathes deeply and focuses on the noise the car makes. Every hiccup of the engine, the slight squeaking coming from the tires, the AC blasting through the vents, and every jostling movement that makes certain parts of the car shift.

 

            And, of course, the two brothers’ heartbeats.

           

            Matt tries to ignore that. He really does.

 

            A clicking noise catches his attention, every so often the car would go over a bump and something near the hero’s feet would rattle. It’s actually quite annoying, not only was Matt shoved into an enclosed space, being smothered by the scent of alpha, _and_ having to deal with the beginnings of a major migraine, he also has the insistent clicking. Click, Click, stop. Click, Click, stop. Click, Click, stop. It’s driving him insane and increasingly irritable, so much so that Matt wishes the two Russians would talk or at least turn on the radio, but no, the silence continues to be filled with clicking.

 

            Matt bangs against the ceiling in frustration, making the rattling increase even more.

 

            “Did you hear that?” The younger one asks.

 

            Finally.

 

            “Banging, yes. Is he awake, you think?”

 

            Matt bangs two more times for confirmation.

 

            The two begin speaking quietly in Russian, not that it matters, Matt can hear every word, but can’t make a single thing out. God, what he wouldn’t give for the ability to go back in time and take Russian. Now it’s simply another thing to add to the ever-growing list of his least favorite car ride activities:

           

  1.       Being locked in a trunk.



 

  1.       Have two Russians driving who knows where.



 

  1.       The rash that’s forming from the shitty material of carpet rubbing against his neck.



 

  1.       A tire snuggly packed under his ass.



 

  1.       That damned _clicking._



 

  1.       Not knowing what the two alphas are discussing.



 

The whispers die down and the clicking resumes. Angrily, Matt kicks at the noise and in a thud something breaks loose from the wall, ceasing the clicking all together. _A panel, it’s a fucking panel,_ Matt realizes. Slowly he shimmies his body to face where his feet once were, the process was awkward and jerky, plus the tire and cramped space didn’t help matters much. After a few long moments of twisting and grinding against rubber and carpet, Matt reaches his goal. He lifts his hand up, fingers grazing past the cold metal of the panel he kicked off the side of the trunk. Groping around, Matt could feel an indent in the stiff fabric right where the flooring meets wall. _Gotcha,_ he thinks triumphantly.

 

            Matt digs his fingers into the grimy material in an attempt at ripping it upwards. After the first few tries he can hear the tell-tale sign of the fabric coming undone. From there, all Matt had to do was wiggle the weakening strands and pull the carpeting back to reveal the method of the hero’s escape: a release cord. Most of the older cars have them and thankfully this car seems to be in the early 2000s, if his nose and ears aren’t failing him. The vigilante curls his fingers around the rubber-coated wire and jerks it up, effectively popping open the hatch.

 

            The cold air hits Matt’s flushed skin and he sighs in relief. Quietly pushing the hatch open even more and the hero crouches at the edge of the opening. As he’s about to slip out of the moving vehicle, the car dips into a pot hole, causing Matt to lose his footing and fall against the door, pushing it all the way open. Unable to gain any purchase, his body dropped out of the car, skidding against the ragged ground. Bits and pieces of rubble gathering against his skid-burnt as he slides from impact.

Matt didn’t move for a moment, he simply lay there taking in his injuries. His right arm and left knee are bleeding profusely, the taste blood in his mouth is most likely from his split lip, and whenever the fallen man tries breathing he can hear the cracking of two ribs. Gravel is imbedded into his skin and splattered in his wounds, adding an extra sting to his cuts. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen can’t help but feel embarrassed at the fact that he was bested by a pot hole.

 

            Matt’s ears perk at the sound of the screeching of tires sliding to a stop, the smell of burnt rubber making his nose wrinkle. Car doors open and slam shut and two pairs of feet slam against the concrete, making little earthquakes in Matt’s head. The rubber smell is overlapped with the sweet yet sharp scent of the Russians. Everything is slightly dizzy, _perhaps I am concussed as well,_ the hero notes somewhat dazedly.

           

            Groaning, Matt lifts his torso up into a sitting position trying to prepare himself for the two mobsters. “ _Shit,”_ he gasps in pain. Matt listens carefully for a moment and he definitely just broke one of those cracked ribs.

 

            The two brothers are standing in front of him now and for a moment there’s just silence. As if none of them know what to make of the situation. But soon the moment passes and both of them are crouched on either side of Matt, fingers skimming across his injuries. The light touches send shivers up and down the omega’s spine and he can’t help but lean into their hands. The skimming turns to prodding and those shivers turn into flinches as the hero groans at the blunt fingers poking his ribs.

 

            “Idiot,” the older one grunts as his hand runs over his leg trailing it up to his ribcage.

 

            “Should have tied him up,” the other murmurs his fingers raking against his scalp.

 

            _Perfect, so much for anonymity,_ Matt thinks sluggishly as he notices his lack of headwear.

 

            “Shouldn’t… have put me in a fucking trunk,” slurs the vigilante.

 

            “Vladimir, he has concussion,” Matt hears in an echo.

           

            “Of course he does,” huffs…Vladimir, _yeah, Vladimir_ , Matt confirms after a moment’s pause.

 

            Groggily, Matt raises his arm, searching for something to grasp. His hand comes in contact of what he thinks is a shoulder… maybe a head, honestly the hero is having a hard time telling up from down. “Ugh,” he groans as the dizziness comes full force. Matt blinks hard, confused about why he can’t _see_ anything before remembering he’s blind. It was at that moment the hero of Hell’s Kitchen gracefully leans against one of the Russians and pukes.

 

…

 

            “Fuck!” Vladimir shouts in Russian as the American releases his stomach on his lap.

 

            Anatoly looks worriedly down at the man and then to his brother, who’s glaring daggers at the semi-awake omega. He still isn’t quite sure where his brother stands on the whole matter, neither wanting to talk about the situation at hand in the car. But its obvious Vladimir is worried about the well-being of the hero as he gently wipes the sweat from his forehead and puke from his mouth, feeling the swelling on his head in the process.

 

            “We need to stop swelling,” Anatoly inputs.

 

            “No hospitals, help me get him in the car… Not the trunk this time, we find hotel. Patch him up and leave.”

 

            The two lift the, once again, unconscious man – Vlad is beginning to see a pattern – and set him carefully into the backseat. Vladimir searches the car for something to tie the man’s legs and arms together, ravaging through the glove box and console. The only things he could muster up are a scarf, bungee cord, and randomly enough some floss. _It will have to do,_ Vladimir thinks to himself as he tosses the scarf to Anatoly. “Tie legs, try to get over cut to stop bleeding.”

 

            They tie his arms and legs but it’s hard to cover either of the hero’s cuts. Spotting a jacket on the floor of the car and picks it up, Anatoly takes out a knife he keeps stashed in his boot. Cutting the sleeves off the cotton, the criminal wraps both of the man’s wounds as best he can with the materials at hand. Each twist and tightening of the sleeve makes the omega moan in his sleep. After Anatoly sits next to the man, gently resting his head on his lap.

 

            “We need to leave now, Vladimir. Not good for him to be sleeping,” Anatoly urges.

 

            The car jerks to a start and continues down the road, as if this little hiccup never happened.

 

…

 

            Matt awakes to the feeling of something cold against his forehead. Ice wrapped in cloth, a… pillow case. “What… what happened?”

 

            “What happened is you were idiot. Flew out of car like balloon, very shitty balloon,” snorts the older Russian. Vladimir. Right.

 

            Things are starting to come back to Matt and he attempts to jolt upwards but the throbbing pain of his head and ribs stop him mid-stride. “Ouch,” he groans.

 

            “We fix you up nice. You have concussion, broken rib, and cuts. No hospital but swelling went down. Do you remember?” Asks the younger brother, Matt can’t recall his name.

 

            “You kidnapped me from a coffee shop and stuffed me in a trunk,” Matt deadpans.

 

            “Yes,” the two say simultaneously, neither really upset over the fact.

 

            Matt places both hands on either side of him and pushes himself up. “Am I in a bed?” He asks, grinding his teeth through the pain.

 

            “What are you blind?” Vladimir scoffs.

 

            Matt gazes in his general direction. “Yes. Where are we?”

 

            An uncomfortable silence grows between the two brothers as the hero awaits an answer. “Well? Don’t tell me this is your first encounter with a blind person, we’re not contagious.”

 

            “No, no. It is not that,” the younger one states. “It is just you fight, how can you fight as blind man?”

 

            “I don’t need to explain my methods to a stranger, especially strangers that kidnap people for a living.”

 

            “But that is not true, do you not smell us like we smell you?” The younger one still argues.

 

            Matt shrugs. “Yeah, you smell damn-fucking good, but that doesn’t mean you’re not criminals,” he says between gritted teeth. The hero really didn’t want to be reminded of their scent.

 

            The ice is removed from his head and the pain slowly makes its way to the center of his mind, at least it’s better than focusing on their scent. “How do you not understand, you are our _mate._ Does this not concern you in the least?”

 

            The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen stares blindly forward, not wanting to have this conversation. Of course he’s heard the stories of soulmates finding their other half, it all seemed a bit far-fetched to Matt’s sensitive ears. The only person the hero needed was his father and he left the picture early on. Now, though, now Matt needs no one. His job is to protect his city from men like these two, soulmates be damned. “My concern is for my city.”

 

            Vladimir, who has been silently watching the argument between his brother and Matt speaks up. “We are far away from city, you are problem for us and we are problem for you. We need solution to problem.”

 

            “The solution is to let me go, turn yourselves in, and face justice for your crimes,” Matt growls.

 

            “Oh really? Tell me, hero, how are you going to do that? You can barely sit up. Your scent of arousal is increase every time one of us speaks. You are mess,” Vladimir snarls right back.

 

            The words ring true and Matt tries but cannot deny them. Not fully, at least. “Fine,” he gives in, “we can talk. But after I am going back to Hell’s Kitchen to stop your boss, whoever he may be.”

 

            “His name is Fisk,” Vladimir supplies easily enough.

 

            “ _Brother,”_ the young one hisses.

 

            “Anatoly,” _finally a name to the voice,_ Matt thinks. “Fisk is madman that will piss over our territory. And _he,”_ Matt hears the swish of air movement as Vladimir point to him, “is our territory.”

 

            Well that can’t be good.

 

            “Okay, one I am not yours, let’s get that clear right now. Two, this Fisk… he’s your boss? The one who’s been funding you and the others?”

 

            Anatoly’s heartbeat is uneasy, nervous. “Yes,” he says warily. “He wants to take over organization, my brother does not see reason to his methods.”

 

            Matt raises an eyebrow. “And you do?”

 

            “Fisk is… more animal than man. One does not see reason with him, either submit or die. I will not let pride get either of killed,” Anatoly’s voice is low and subsides the vigilante’s headache a notch.

 

            “Mmm. And you?” Matt asks the elder brother.

 

            “As Anatoly stated, Fisk is animal. He will run us to ground and I do not think by accident. He wants change, yet he comes to criminals to do so. Not sane man.”

 

            “I can’t say that if he took over your… _business_ and burned it to the ground I wouldn’t be pleased. But, I’ve seen what he can do and if that is the change he wants then he needs to be stopped, not be given even more power,” Matt works out for the three of them.

 

            Anatoly gets up and there’s a rustling coming from the kitchen before he returns, he places the makeshift icepack back on his forehead. _Much better,_ Matt thinks as he lets out a sigh.

 

            “With words like that you could cause war. War with Fisk is not showing much concern for your city, as you say,” Anatoly counters.

 

            Matt tilts his head back, enjoying the cool sensation on his skin. Anatoly makes a good point, he knows this. But there’s only so much damage Matt can allow to happen on his watch and if he can get the Russians on his side – and he’s slowly starting to believe he can – perhaps taking down Fisk could happen sooner than the hero anticipated. Then again, can he trust his own judgement with this? It’s not like Matt can’t see his own instincts rising up into his thought process. He wants to trust these alphas, to keep them from harm, even please them. It’s actually quite annoying for the hero.

 

            “What if we take Fisk down before a war could arise? Hand him over to the police, there has to be something going down we can catch him on and have you two testify against him.”

 

            “We would be dead in moments,” exclaimed Vladimir.

 

            “Not if we get you police custody, you’d get a deal and everything for helping take down someone of your boss’s caliber,” explains the hero.

 

            “You do not understand, the police work for Fisk. They are as much use to us as going to one of his henchmen. We’d be hung the moment we set foot in building. No, we are not doing that,” Vladimir’s tone is getting angrier, his accent becoming harder to make out.

 

            “Well, we’re not killing him,” Matt declared. That is not something he will budge on, even if he has to fight the two alphas, send them to prison, and force them to confess himself.

 

            “Fisk is not someone who stays in cage long. Even if you manage to capture the beast, he will break free, seek revenge. We put him down and he is no longer threat, how do you not see this? Are you blind in head as well?”

 

            Perhaps, getting the alphas on his side will be harder than the hero thought. “Then we go to the FBI, get them to take down Fisk.”

 

            “He is ghost, there is nothing on him. How do you capture something that is not there?” Anatoly pointed out.

 

            “Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not there. We’ll find something, _if_ we work together.”

 

            “You would work with us?” Vladimir mocks, but there’s also curiosity in his tone.

 

            “I… yes. Yes, I would. We just need to set some, ah, boundaries. I understand that what our physical reactions to each other indicates. Bonding, soulmates, etc. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to roll over and let either of you claim me. My city comes first and you are a threat to keeping it safe, whether if you help take down Fisk or not. I do not trust either of you in the least, no matter what my instincts say about you. If we do this, I need to be assured neither of you will make any move towards claiming me.”

 

…

 

            This upsets the brothers, both of their bodies tensing at Matt’s words. Neither of them thought the hero would resist the mating process. There are the fairytales told of mates being found, but with fairytales comes its counterpart: horror stories. There have been whispers of a matings gone wrong or the rejection from one mate to another, all ending with one or both of the parties dead. It is said that a craze takes over the rejected, they become insane, animalistic. Without a complete bonding to keep the two in check, it’s as if the two souls try to rip themselves out of their separated bodies, causing lack of reality and stability of the mind for either of the mates.

 

            Anatoly does not want to know what this process would be like for him and his brother, for he’s certain this blind man is both of their Proper Mate. It makes sense, Anatoly and his brother have shared everything since birth, why would this be any different? And the thought of losing not only his sanity but his brother’s as well…

 

            “You cannot keep yourself from us, you are our Proper Mate. Do you want us insane? To lose grip of any morality we have? Surely that is worse than us with souls intact,” he questions.

 

            “You’re criminals that deal in human trafficking. What morals do you have?” The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen states, as if that answers everything.

 

            “You are our mate,” Vladimir shoots back.

 

            The hero sighs in frustration and, by the look on his face, anger is surely swimming beneath his skin as well. “Yes, I know that. We’re just talking in circles now. I’m trying to keep an unbiased mind and neither of you are helping with that. I’m not saying that we won’t… bond, that’s suicide. But I will not have you two ruining my moral compass because of it, so sorry but the possibility of bonding will have to wait until _after_ we take down Fisk.”

 

            The brothers look at each, silently debating on whether or not to just force a claim on the injured man then and there. It can be done, nonconsensual bonding happens all the time, especially in the business Anatoly and Vladimir are in. But neither of the brothers are too keen on the idea, yes, forcing captured women and children into prostitution is a part of their job, but this is their mate they are thinking of harming. It just can’t be done, not like that, not willing.

 

            Vladimir looks down at the omega. “We agree to your terms. No touching, mating, bonding. Just Fisk.”

 

            The hero nods. “Just Fisk.”


	3. She A Beta Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's tired of the brother's shit already and it hasn't even been a full 24 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thought I would let you know that if you're liking this story or just enjoy mattimir period you should add me on skype, my user is gracefuldarkness and I'll add you to a chat group for mattimr. We're really friendly and would love more people (we don't video chat, we just message each other). Don't be shy and come join us! Also a special thanks to redflowerblooming for beta-ing, you should check out her ao3 and tumblr. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to comment if you have any input.

Vladimir glances at the man in his passenger seat every few minutes. Even blind, he seems to catch him every time, if Vlad goes by the smirk that graces his lips. It is quite unnerving for the Russian.

 

            “What is your name?” He asks his latest companion.

 

            “The Masked Man,” the smirk is still on his face when he responds.

 

            “That is shit name,” comments Vladimir.

 

            “I didn’t come up with it,” the hero pauses for a moment, words on the tip of his tongue.

 

            Anatoly leans in from the backseat, arms resting on both of the seats in front of him. “What is power in name, when we know who you are?”

 

            “You don’t know me, so a lot.”

 

            “We would not cause you harm, you know this,” Anatoly presses.

 

            The vigilante sinks into his seat, obviously not enjoying the conversation at hand. _Well, too bad,_ Vlad thinks, _he want silence he could go back in trunk._ “You are stubborn about petty things. Little things like name when we know face, you know our names, we gave you name of Fisk. Why not give us something? That is how partnership works, no?”

 

            Silence creeps its way into the car as the brothers wait patiently for the man to speak. They can’t make him tell them his name, but that doesn’t mean they won’t pester the hero until he breaks. The brothers are can be very good at getting what they want when they want it. So, as the minutes flick across the digital clock in the car and the night sky fades into a pink hue, the two simply wait. Neither are bothered by the quietness in the car.

 

            The car drives over yet another pot-hole as they make their way back to Hell’s Kitchen.

 

            “Matt,” comes from the blind man, effectively breaking the silence. “My name’s Matt.”

 

            This perks the two Russians up, finally able to have a name to their omega’s face. No longer does the car ride feel like a trip to their deaths but rather something more promising. It is rather sad, Vlad muses, that just a name can drive both of them to hope.

 

            “Matthew,” Anatoly purrs, liking the way it rolls off his tongue.

 

            “Such an American name,” states Vladimir.

 

            “That’s rich coming from the Russian named Vladimir with a brother named _Anatoly._ Like, seriously, could your parents pick anything more typical?”

 

            The brothers chuckle at that. “I suppose so,” Vlad admits.

 

            Matt laughs in response but it quickly turns into a series of coughs. Anatoly rummages through the bag, which they bought from a convenience store while the vigilante was out cold and concussed, at his feet and takes out three Advil. “Here, take,” he urges.

 

            “S’not gonna do much,” Matt manages to get out through the pain, he ends up accepting the pills anyways.

 

            “You need doctor,” Vladimir says as drives, trying to keep his eyes on the road and the crumpled hero at the same time.

 

            “I know someone who can… help with the situation at hand. Just,” he shifts in his seat, “need to get back first.”

 

            Vladimir nods and presses his foot down on the gas.

 

…

 

            Matt begins to sense the telltale signs of his city, the constant thrum of electricity, the blaring of horns, the underlying scent of sewage, and the slight tinge of metal on his tongue. It all buzzes around the hero’s head like flies, annoying but almost impossible to swat away their presence. Honestly, it’s more of a comfort to have these sensations coming back to him – like a warm hug from a friend after being gone for who knows how long. It’s something familiar and that grounds the blind man.

 

            Sadly, the pain in his ribs does not.

 

            Matt slides his hand into one of the many pockets of his outfit and takes out the stashed phone. Pressing the button assigned specifically for Claire, the hero waits for it to dial. She picks up on the third ring.

 

            “Matt?”

 

            He sighs in relief. “Claire, yeah. It’s me.”

 

            “Where the hell have you been? I was supposed to take out your stitches yesterday, you never showed up,” she sounds annoyed but Matt can detect the relief in her voice as well.

 

            Better to be late than never call again, apparently.

 

            “Yeah,” Matt gasps as he sits up higher in his seat, “about that… I might need a few more of those. And you may need to check out my ribs, one’s broken… another’s fractured.”

 

            “Shit, Matt. What happened to you?”

 

            Matt rubs his face. “I had a run in with some… unexpected allies. Can we meet? Not at your place.”

 

            “Yeah, of course, I’m just finishing up my shift at the hospital. Where do you have in mind?”

 

            “One second, please.” He places his over the mic, “We need to go somewhere quiet, isolated. Do you know a place?” Matt asks the brothers.

 

            “Nowhere Fisk does not know,” Anatoly grumbles.

 

            “Fuck, fine,” Matt growls.

 

            “Matt? Are you there?” Comes through the phone.

 

            “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Just… meet me at my place. Do you remember how to get there?”

 

            “Of course, I’ll see you soon. Don’t die,” she says before hanging up.

 

            “So, your place is destination? First date is going well, I see,” the smugness in Vlad’s voice makes Matt want to punch something.

 

            “This isn’t a date, we’re planning on taking down Fisk, that’s all,” he responds dully.

 

            “An execution attempt is good a date as any,” Anatoly adds.

 

            “We’re not killing him,” hisses Matt.

 

            “No one said kill, just… execute. Does not have to mean kill, no?” The playfulness in his tone is easily heard.

 

            “Is this your idea of flirting? If so, you’re failing miserably,” barks the irate hero.  


            The younger Russian is about to make a comeback, Matt just knows it. “Before you say anything, take a left here, Vladimir.”

           

            He turns left.

 

            “It is creepy how you can see, blind man,” he voices.

 

            “Yeah, well, it’s creepy how your brother finds the idea of death a turn on.”

 

            At that all three start laughing, albeit Matt’s laugh is low and repressed to keep from choking on the pain. _Perhaps this won’t be too torturous after all,_ thinks the blind hero. After a moment of composure, Matt starts listing off the directions to his house.

 

…

 

            “Matt,” Claire calls out when she opens the door.

 

            “In the kitchen,” he raises his voice slightly, trying not to cause any unneeded discomfort.

 

            Matt listens to the movement of shoes being pulled off and the gentle thud of them dropping to the floor. The soft padding of bare feet thumps across the floor, so it’s easy enough to tell when she notices the two crime lords in the room by the pause in her footsteps. He smells the increase of sweat on Claire’s body and cannot help but feel guilty for bringing her into this mess.

 

            “Claire,” Matt murmurs soothingly, “they’re not here to hurt you, I promise.”

 

            “They already have hurt me,” her voice is cold, guarded.

 

            Matt tries not to feel the sting in his chest, understanding that bite isn’t just directed towards the Russians.

 

            The wounded man hears sturdy boots, _Vlad,_ walk towards Claire. “Fisk is enemy. Not us, woman,” he huffs.

 

            “Yeah, well, tell that to my bruised face that your men beat the shit out of,” Claire says with a fire in her words.

 

            “Claire, I know this isn’t the most ideal situation and I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I didn’t really need you to, so can we please put aside the rightful anger towards them. I promise I won’t let them hurt you, you have my word,” Matt’s tone cuts through the tension.

 

            The soft padding commences and the hero takes in the noise of impact as Claire shoves past Vladimir. A smooth hand caresses his face. “It doesn’t seem like I’m the one you have to be worrying about them hurting,” she hums as her hand checks for any damage.

 

            Matt leans back against the counter and let’s himself enjoy the sensation of being touched by the beta. It’s a calming feeling to have fingers grazing across his face, something to distract him from the pain elsewhere. Each touch from the beta gives Matt the strength to pull himself up and at least feign being at ease. As her touches gives peace to Matt, they seem to be having the opposite effect on the brothers. The more time stretches between him and the nurse, the two alpha’s heartbeats thump harshly against their chests. The air permeates testosterone, enough that even people without senses as keen as Matt’s could smell it.

 

            Claire takes a step back. “You’re right about the broken and fractured ribs, those’ll need time to heal. And when I say time, I mean _time,_ Matt, do you understand? That doesn’t mean take a few Tylenol and hop off a building. That means sit your ass down, relax, _maybe_ even listen to some T.V. I’m also going to have to stitch up your leg, the cut’s pretty nasty. Your arm, on the other hand, isn’t too bad, nothing that won’t heal on its own. As for your head… the concussion seems to have passed but I’d still be careful if I were you.”

 

            “Thank you, Claire,” Matt says sincerely.

 

            Her fingers run through his hair and Matt closes his eyes at the touch. “You know there’s no need for that,” she genuinely responds.

 

            That’s when Vladimir and Anatoly rush over, making Claire stagger three steps back.

 

            “You do not touch him, he is ours,” growls Vladimir.

 

            Anger spikes in Matt’s chest as he starts to push past the two alphas blocking him from the beta. Yes, he is hurt but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand by while the two brothers threaten his friend. He promised Claire she would be safe here and he intends to keep that promise.

 

            His voice is gruff when he speaks, “She can do whatever she wants. That is neither of your calls to make, do you remember our deal?”

 

            The Russians pay him no mind and keep their chests puffed and their stances stiff. Claire’s heartbeat is faster than normal, but it’s steady, meaning she’s not willing to back down from the alphas. “He needs medical attention and I’m not leaving here until he gets some. _You two_ may be used to leaving people to die, but I’m sure as hell not.”

 

            That really doesn’t help calm either of the brothers down, so Matt pushes past them. “I’d like those stitches right about now, thank you.”

 

            “So this… Beta Bitch can touch you, but we cannot?” Vladimir rumbles out angrily.

 

            Matt spins around. “What did you just call her?”

 

            “Beta Bitch,” he spits.

 

            Ignoring the stabbing pain throbbing throughout his body, the omega flashes up to the alpha. His hands grasp leather and Matt pushes him up against the counter as he thrusts his elbow against his neck. “Is this enough touching for you? If you disrespect her one more time, the deal’s off and who knows maybe my no killing rule will be lifted just for you.”

 

            “Matt!” Comes the panicked shout of Claire.

 

            “Do you understand?” Growls the hero.

 

            “You are strange omega,” Vladimir hisses, his breath grazing against Matt’s lips.

 

            Matt slams the crime lord against the hard surface and cuts off the Russian’s breathing. “Answer me,” he snarls.

 

            Anatoly grasps onto Matt’s shoulder but before he can pull the hero off, Matt snaps and breaks his hand. The younger Russian’s screams fill the apartment and Vladimir shouts in response to his brother’s pain. Panting Matt asks, “Do you understand?”

 

            “Yes, _fuck,_ yes. Understood, happy, you crazed hero?” Vladimir yells.

 

            Matt lets go of Vlad and steps back, straightening his back. “Thank you. Claire, could you please check out Anatoly’s hand before you stitch me up?”

 

            The pained breathing from Matt and Anatoly overshadows the angry huffs of Vladimir and the nervous breaths from Claire as she patches up the Russian. The hero tries to ignore Vladimir’s frustration at the situation at hand. It doesn’t help matters that he wants to curl up next to the Russian and _comfort_ him. The same can be said for his instincts towards the younger brother, every slight intake of breath and movements of bones in his hand makes Matt wince. Guilt engulfs his chest and he can’t help but duck his head. _Damn instincts, why couldn’t you pair me up with someone like Claire? Why did it have to be Russian crime lords?_ Matt curses to his hormones.

 

            A touch on his shoulder makes him jump. “Let me stitch you up,” Claire commands.

 

            Matt pauses, listening to make sure everything is alright with Anatoly and that Vladimir isn’t lurking _too_ closely. He nods when everything seems to be under control and Claire leads him over to his couch. “Sit,” she says and Matt obliges. Matt takes in the slight stabbing pain as the needle threads through his raw flesh as a welcome distraction. He rests his head back and listens to the stitching slide against his wound and nipping at the inside of his cheek when Claire knots the first incision.

 

            “So what’s your plan?” Claire asks, her hands smearing the blood on his thigh as she continues.

 

            “We’re going to take down their boss, Fisk…. We just need some solid evidence first.”

 

            “You make it sound easy,” Vladimir sulks.

 

            That twinge of guilt stabs Matt once more. “We’ll find some,” he answers.

 

            “Why not start with your friend… Karen? Didn’t she work for them?” Claire pushes.

 

            She finishes up his stitches and pats down his leg with a wet towel. “Yes, but not knowingly. She wouldn’t be much help, and I don’t want to drag anyone else into this,” Matt states.

 

            “You say you want lead,” Anatoly remarks as he holds his broken hand out in front of him, “yet you do not go to source. What kind of hero does that make you?”

 

            Matt knows they’re just trying to get under his skin but that doesn’t mean the comment doesn’t sting. “The kind of hero that keeps his friends safe,” he tells the brothers.

 

            Vladimir walks over to the sitting man, who tenses immediately. “Yet you claim to put this city first. Which is it? What is your city worth?”

 

            Matt tilts his head back, staring but not seeing the man above him, accepting the challenge. “Anything.”

           


	4. You Should Really Lock Your Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt makes a visit to his favorite assistant before heading home. What happens at home... turns out to be unpleasant for Matt and the two brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, basically this has a bit of non-con in it (no sex, just some touching) so idk if this'll trigger anyone or not. Also, I tried making Matt not sound too out of character but it's hard not to in this scene. Basically what I'm trying to do is make Matt realize just what it's like to deal with omega feelings and I feel like those would clash deeply with his regular instincts. So, basically Matt's going to have a lot of inner turmoil as he learns to come to terms with his omega nature in these next few chapters. He's never dealt with them before and now that the alphas are in the picture it's all coming at him full force and it's freaking him out, so if he sounds off, I'm sorry. Please leave a comment on anything - characterization, plot, grammar, set-up, to say hello, or to tell me how you like/hate it.

            Karen’s packing up her things when the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen opens the door. She rummages through her belongings, not noticing the masked man as he walks over to perch on the musty, old couch. He listens to the rustling of packing paper and shuffling of boxes being slid across the floor, not wanting to interrupt her. The room’s barren compared to the last time he was here, the pictures and other ornaments that the apartment held are packed away snugly in the various boxes.

 

            The hero lets this go on for about fifteen minutes before clearing his throat. “Ms. Page.”

 

            Karen spins around suddenly at the gravelly voice. “Dear God, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

 

            He cocks his head to the left, a slight smirk on his face. “I apologize for the scare.”

 

            “Somehow I don’t think you mean that,” she grumbles, putting down the plates she’s been stacking in a crate.

 

            “You know, you should really lock your door… Someone could just waltz on in here and you wouldn’t even know it.”

 

            The blond gapes at the vigilante. “Did you… did you just make a _joke?_ Like an honest to God joke?”

 

            Karen watches the man duck his head and cough out a slight laugh. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

 

            She can’t really process the fact that the masked man is actually in her apartment, making jokes of all things. Every time her eyes land on his menacing form lazing on her couch in her dimly lit apartment, it’s impossible for her to make the connection that he’s actually there, in her freaking apartment.

 

            “Ms. Page?” He questions after a few moments of her silently gaping at him.

 

            “Sorry – I just… what are you _doing_ here? Shouldn’t you be out fighting crime or something?”

 

            The man stands up and Karen is somewhat surprised by the lack of height difference. She didn’t notice it before, too busy fearing for her life when he swooped in and saved the day. But now, it’s almost comical just how… normal he looks – even if she can’t see his face. It makes her realize that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just a man, a very well built man, but still… A man. It’s in this moment she knows how dangerous he is and, yet, she isn’t afraid.

 

            “I need your help, Ms. Page,” he says, his voice silky and deep.

 

            She combs her fingers through her hair, nervous at the thought that there’s something she has that the vigilante wants. “Did something happen?”

 

            He scratches the stubble on his chin, debating on whether or not to tell her the full truth. “You could say that, yes. I have… come into the possession of very delicate information. Information that is useless without tangible proof. Tangible proof that you can give, Ms. Page.”

 

            “I… I’m not sure what you need me for,” Karen says slowly. “Are we talking about the same scum bags who framed me for murder?

 

            “Yes,” he nods.

 

            “What did you find out?” She presses.

 

            “I have a name,” he states.

 

            Karen raises an eyebrow, not too impressed by her hero’s detective skills. “A name? That’s it?”

 

            “Among other things,” he coughs out, not wanting to mention the two Russians who are most likely ransacking his home as they speak.

 

            “You have to give me more than that,” Karen huffs, starting to become annoyed with his vagueness.

 

            “No, I don’t. It’s for your protection that you don’t know what I know.”

 

            She walks over to the vigilante, plopping down next to him on the couch. Slumping her shoulders and resting her elbows on her knees she closes her eyes. “I’m moving,” Karen states suddenly.

 

            The hero leans forward, mimicking her posture. “I can tell.”

 

            “I haven’t even been here long enough to settle into this shitty apartment and I can barely… I don’t feel safe. _They_ took away my ability to feel secure in my own fucking home. _They_ took away my peace of mind. _They_ squandered any hope of me starting over. It’s all their fault.”

 

            He listens to the rant, somewhat surprised at what he hears from his assistant and friend. “So what are you going to do about it?”

 

            “I’m going to take back what’s mine and give them something to fear,” her voice is hoarse and her eyes burn with unshed tears.

 

            The vigilante places a single hand on the anguished woman’s shoulder. “I can help with that.”

 

            Karen rubs her eyes angrily. “They offered me a deal, to keep me quiet. Like… _a lot_ of money just to shut me up. I don’t want to accept it, but they’re giving me a day to think it over.”

 

            The hero lets this sink in for a moment. He didn’t know that Karen was offered any money, she didn’t even mention it to him or Foggy – the he knows of – in passing. It’s quite disturbing how little he knows of his friend/client/assistant’s personal life. Now that he thinks about it, he’s not even sure _why_ she moved to Hell’s Kitchen in the first place. _Well, another mystery for another time I suppose,_ he decides.

 

            “Where did this meeting occur?”

 

            “Landman and Zack… They’re expecting me tomorrow at three,” Karen supplies.

 

            “You are to meet alone?”

 

            “Yes, I can’t even have a lawyer, at least not my friends Matt and Foggy.”

 

            “Seems illegal,” he states, knowing fully well it is.

 

            “It’s a part of the agreement to stay silent,” she volleys back.

 

            “An agreement you aren’t holding up,” the hero points out.

 

            “You think I should bring someone?”

 

            He nods and Karen shifts in her seat. She isn’t sure what to do now, she’s worried if she brings Matt or Foggy to the arrangement something bad will happen. It’s obvious the people she’s gotten entangled with are on the south side of the law and won’t hesitate to make the problem go away. The problem being her, that is. She isn’t sure if she can drag someone else into that, especially two sweethearts like the two best friends.

 

           

            “I don’t know if I can pull them down into this…” She explains.

 

            “They’re already in it, whether they like it or not,” his tone sounds somewhat bitter.

 

            Karen weighs her options, wanting to take down the man who played a hand in ruining her life here but also wanting to protect her friends. She knows both of them will go with her in a heartbeat, if she asks, no matter the consequences. “Alright,” she says, “I’ll ask them. What if something happens?”

 

            “I doubt anything will happen at the office, most likely they will come after you at another time. I’ll be there to intercept them.”

 

            “God, do you really think they would?”

 

            “I know they will, Ms. Page.”

 

            “So… I’m, like, bait?”

 

            “… If you want to put it that way, I suppose you are, yes,” the Devil admits.

 

            She bites her lip and pulls at some strands of her hair. “They’ll go after Matt and Foggy, too? How will you protect them?”

 

            “I’ll be watching, waiting for them to make their move.”

 

            _He sounds so sure of himself,_ she thinks. “You’re just going to follow us around until they strike?”

 

            “In a sense… yes, I am.”

 

            Karen’s not too sure that makes her feel any better.

 

            “Look,” the masked man faces her, enfolding her hands in his. “I promise you that no harm will come to you. The same can be said for your friends.”

 

            Karen stares intently at the man’s face, well more like his jaw and lips than anything else. Wanting so badly to trust her savior but not sure if it’s the right call, not sure if she can put her friends’ lives on the line for him. But then she thinks of what can happen if she just sits back and lets these assholes get away with what they’ve done.

 

            “Okay, okay… To take down these bastards I’ll do it.”

 

            The vigilante squeezes Karen’s hands slightly. “Thank you, Ms. Page.”

 

            He gets up and heads towards the door, not missing a single beat.

 

            “Wait,” Karen raises her voice a bit, she’s not quite sure why since he’s only a few feet away.

 

            He stops, his face turned slightly in her direction. “Yes?”

 

            “How’ll I reach you? In case something happens or… I don’t know, just something could happen, you know?”

 

            A small smile graces his lips once more. “I’ll be closer than you think, Ms. Page. Stay safe and don’t forget to lock your doors.”

 

            And with that, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen opens Karen Page’s front door and it’s like he was never there in the first place.

 

            Karen looks around at her apartment in exasperation. The half empty boxes scattered across the room makes her wince. Picking up the plates from where she set them down, she goes back to packing up her new life.

 

…

 

            Both the brothers are in Matt’s bedroom when he returns from Karen’s apartment. When they hear the tell-tale sound of a door knob turning, the two Russians quickly scramble their way out of the hero’s sleeping chamber. Vlad leans against the wall, looking around the bleak living room unimpressed and Anatoly dives onto the couch and drums his fingers against the fake leather.

 

            Matt walks into his apartment and somehow manages to form a glare heading towards both the crime lord’s directions. “Stay out of my room.”

 

            Vladimir shrugs, not too surprised at being caught by their omega. “We were bored.”

 

            Matt sighs and pulls off his mask. “That’s not a valid excuse, Vladimir.”

 

            “We are not children, Matthew,” Anatoly huffs.

 

            “Really? Could have fooled me,” Matt snipes as he pulls a beer out of the fridge.

 

            The younger brother pushes himself off of the couch and prowls over to the omega. “Did you get information?”

 

            Matt tries to ignore the urge to lean closer to the alpha. It’s only been a day and a half and both of the brother’s scents are _everywhere._ It’s starting to make Matt go insane, which is why he made his room a ‘No-Alpha-Zone’ almost immediately. Looks like that plan failed miserably.

 

            Matt takes a sip of his beer. “It’ll be touch and go for a few days, but Fisk will make a hit on me and Karen sooner or later.”

 

            That catches the brothers’ attention.

 

“What do you mean _hit?”_ They echo each other.

 

Vlad’s over in a heartbeat, now both alpha’s on either side of Matt. The omega tries to keep it together, his instincts begging him to just barrel into the two bodies, to at least breathe in their scent. He knows he could give in and let the brothers claim him, to let all three of the bonded receive relief. _Maybe... just once,_ his thoughts sway. Matt shakes his head from the thought. His fingers course through the soft locks on his head, pulling slightly in reprimand at his weakness.

 

The brothers notice the increase in arousal in their omega, make them close in on him even more. Close enough that Matt can taste the salt and sweat from their skin, to feel their bated breath dance through the air, and hear their tongues graze against lower lips as they wet them in want. But they’re not close enough to actually be _touching_ the hero, which infuriates and relieves the omega at the same time.

 

“There will be no hit, not if we have say,” growls Anatoly – whether from anger or arousal, Matt doesn’t know or particularly care.

 

“You don’t have a say,” the hero’s words come out in a pant.

 

“We are partners, no?” Vladimir asks, sidling slightly closer, testing the waters.

 

Matt bites the inside of his cheek. _Dammit, why did I think they would honor our agreement? They’re criminals for fuck’s sake,_ Matt scolds himself mentally. He cranes his neck away from him in hopes to stop inhaling the intoxicating scent, but where he turns the other brother awaits. A frustrated whine forms in the back of Matt’s throat, wanting to touch the Russians but too stubborn to give into his body.

 

“Yes, we’re… partners. But partners respect boundaries; step back and we can talk,” Matt’s voice is higher than usual.

 

Vladimir’s hand swishes through the air as he raises it towards Matt’s face. Fingers splay gently across his cheek in a surprisingly soft manner. Both of them close their eyes at the touch, the hero’s body a mess of shivers and goose bumps instantly. Vlad, on the other hand, lets out a low groan in pleasure at finally being able to touch his omega. Without thinking Matt nuzzles into the touch, savoring the texture of the alpha’s finger pads and tough skin.

 

Anatoly takes that as an opening for himself. Matt feels another hand run up his arm, strong fingers gripping his bicep. They’re slightly longer and softer than Vladimir’s digits, Matt can actually feel Anatoly’s own unique finger print pressing up against his skin. Everything sets into place at that one moment, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. For the first time in his life, Matt feels what he didn’t even know he was missing: wholeness.

 

If feels so fucking right that Matt almost doesn’t say anything.

 

 

“Stop,” he gasps out when the brothers lean in closer.

 

They don’t stop, Anatoly nips at his neck drawing a moan out of the hero, while Vlad presses his pelvis against Matt’s ass. He wants to move away but the overwhelming scent of _alpha_ freezes his efforts, paralyzed by this unwanted desire. The omega clutches onto the leather jacket of one of the brother’s, too disoriented by the impact of vibrations in the air to make out who he’s clinging on to.

 

A hand sifts its way through Matt’s hair and another grabs his ass, making his heart rate skyrocket. _I don’t want this,_ echoes throughout his mind. Slowly Matt shakes his head back and forth, trying to convey his thoughts and physically shoo away the impulses of his body at the same time. As his mind clears, his clutching becomes scratching against the broad chest and the clinging turns to pushing.

 

They just push back.

 

Matt wishes he could fight, because that’s what he is: a fighter. But with the omega in him competing against him at every turn, it’s hard to resist when his body’s telling him to submit. The biggest problem with this is that he never has had to deal with his omega side before, so it’s all so mind consuming and _new._ It’s like he’s back to being a pup, dealing with his change all over again in a whole new manner. Everything is all _do now and think later,_ while Matt has survived all these years by focusing and then reacting. He can feel focus is being takenaway from him and it’s terrifying.

 

The hands pull and tug his body around, neither brother realizing the inner turmoil of the omega, too busy relishing in his body. That is until Matt cries out, “ _Stop._ Vladimir, Anatoly… I don’t want this. Stop – _please_.”

 

Vladimir freezes and Anatoly follows suit. Their eyes are foggy and lust filled, but slowly clearing as realization dawns on them. Underneath the brother’s hands is a shaking Matt and they sluggishly let go of the man. They watch as the omega slides to the ground, enfolding in on himself, his body shuddering as he lay there. Horror snags into both of their hearts as they see what they did to their omega.

 

“Matthew, we did not mean this,” Anatoly rushes out immediately while crouching to the pained man’s level.

 

He doesn’t respond, just clutches his head trying to make the overdose of sensations cease. Vladimir frowns down at the withering man, not quite sure how to process the hero in this state, knowing full well it’s his and Anatoly’s fault for putting him in it as well. Neither he nor his brother could keep their primal instincts under control and this is the result.

 

A part of Vlad’s mind whispers, _who cares? You got what you wanted: to touch, to feel. Do not go soft now._ As much as he wants to agree with his illicit mindset, he cannot shake the sick feeling as his eyes stay locked onto his omega’s form. Vladimir has no illusions of who he is, he kidnaps, kills, rapes, and destroys whatever he pleases. He is all and all a bad man, but with Matt every action against him comes barreling at him full force. The guilt and regret seep into his person like an oil. He does not regret his past choices but what he did just then, that is something Vlad cannot simply push off.

 

Anatoly attempts to sooth Matt, speaking in soft tones and urging him to look up. He wishes to touch his omega, but knowing full well he does not have the right. _I will probably never get to touch him again,_ he thinks to himself. Anatoly knows that an alpha’s instincts are to protect and comfort their omega, but how does he protect Matt from himself and Vladimir? What if this happens again? There is a lack of control in both of the Russians and Anatoly cannot guarantee that this will not happen again and that makes the alpha inside him roar in anger.

 

Matt just wants them to leave, wants to go back to two days ago where he was bickering with Foggy about shitty beer and Matt’s lack of “wingman-ship” – as his dear friend loves to call it – and not have to deal with… _this._ Everything burns, his skin is scorching and his mind is bleary from the pain. He’s not sure whether it’s because of the touching or because they _stopped._ He doesn’t want this, doesn’t deserve this. Matt needs to be a hero for this city and he can’t even save himself, not from this. Something needs to change and fast.

 

Still huddled up against the counter, Matt musters up what strength he can and grinds out, “You need to leave.”

 

“We will not leave you like this,” one of them says, Matt can’t tell the difference anymore, honestly he can barely make out what they’re saying.

 

“We are reason he _is_ like this, brother,” the other counters.

 

“So we fix it,” comes the reply.

 

“How can we fix what we cannot touch?”

 

The bickering goes back and forth and it’s piercing into Matt’s skull like an ice pick. Their voices increase in volume and their accents grate against his ears.

 

“Shut up and get out, _now,”_ Matt barks.

 

The fighting stops and they look down silently at the man, whose trembling has become as tense as a wire. Matt listens to the shifting in posture as they stand there gazing at him. After a moment the quiet shuffling in place turns to the light sound of footsteps leaving the flat. When he hears the opening and shutting of the door, Matt’s body relaxes enough for him to unfold himself. Gradually he lifts himself up, gripping the counter edge for good measure, and reaches for his forgotten beer. He downs it in one gulp.

 

Knowing what he has to do next, Matt pulls out his burner and dials Claire.

 

“Claire, I need a favor. Can you stop over, so we can talk?”


	5. I Asked You Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt seeks advice from Claire, though it's sadly not going to pan out well for the omega. Things are starting to take off with Karen and her baiting situation. Also our favorite Russians are having some fun sulking time in an alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the long wait on this chapter... My life's been kinda hectic with graduating high school and getting my associates degree, plus working and planning for a party and writing three different fanfictions and a novel. A lot is on my plate but I refuse to give this story up, I'm trying to figure out a good writing schedule for this story and forgive me if it takes a bit for me to figure that out. Also, all the comments you guys are leaving me are really nice and I just want to let you know how much I appreciate them, they really keep me going on days I feel like crap and even on the good days they make me want to write more for you guys. Thanks for being awesome:)

            “Matt, I don’t think you understand what you’re asking for.”

 

            “I know exactly what I’m asking for, Claire, you just think I don’t know the risks. Trust me, I do.”

 

            “What you’re asking for is nearly impossible, barely tested, and far from safe, all for the off-chance it _might_ work.”

 

            “It’s worth it.”

 

            “No, it’s really, really not.”

 

            Matt pinches the ridge of his nose and sighs in frustration. They’ve been arguing over this for the past hour and nothing has come from it. The constant back and forth over ethics and the ability to even do what the omega’s asking is starting to grate on both of their nerves. Claire’s curled up on his couch, sipping on poorly made coffee, looking pitifully at Matt. She understands why he’s asking but she also knows it’s impossible.

 

            “Look, Matt, you know I want you to be happy, but I also want you to be safe,” she tries again.

 

            “I can’t be with them, Claire… I can’t deal with this _bond_ we’re supposed to have. I’m supposed to be a hero. Allowing whatever _this_ is to happen is not what a hero would do.”

 

            Claire groans into her mug, sympathizing with her friend and wishing she could give him what he wants, but knowing the repercussions of what he’s asking. Every medical journal she’s read warns against exactly what Matt’s nudging towards.

 

            “You can’t repress the omega in you, I’m sorry, Matt. It’s just not going to happen, no matter how upset you are with your situation… Those two are meant to be your perfect mates. Now, it _is_ interesting that somehow you ended up with two bonded… I’ve never heard of something like that occurring, but I don’t think that’s going to help your case much. You three are an anomaly and all you guys seem to be doing is causing problems for one another. You said you were working with them, for some ungodly reason, and now you can’t even be in the same room as them. How do you plan to take down whoever it is – Fisk you said? – how are you planning to take down Fisk if you can’t even get yourselves together?”

 

            Matt swallows thickly, not liking what he’s hearing but what Claire says rings true. “That’s why I need my omega side gone, I need suppressants to keep my… more instinctual side at bay. Then I’ll be able to deal with them with a clear mind.”

 

            “You won’t be dealing with anyone if you’re lying unconscious or even _dead_ on the floor from the shit they put in those pills, Matt.”

 

            “It’s better than this, they couldn’t even control themselves around me earlier… I couldn’t control myself. I can’t have them on my ass, literally and figuratively, while I’m trying to save the city.”

 

            Claire stands up, walking over to the window to look at that god awful sign. “Even if the suppressants work, it won’t affect the bond. You’ll just be off your heats – which you even haven’t had yet, since the bond is so new – and your major omega instincts would tone down. They don’t affect jack shit on the alphas, they’ll still feel the same for you as they do now, the only difference is you won’t… feel a heat. You’ll still be bonded to them, Matt, I’m sorry.”

 

            Matt keeps his shoulders tense and even, refusing to let them slump in defeat. There has to be another answer to this, there isn’t some destined mate for everyone that they _have_ to be with. “I should be able to ignore it and just do my damned job.”

 

            He walks over to Claire, letting it appear that he’s looking out the window, when all he can truly see are the ever present flames in front of his eyes. “Speaking of jobs,” Claire speaks up. “Don’t you have work tomorrow? It’s almost three in the morning, you should really get some rest. Hell, I should get some rest.”

 

            Matt still wants to argue about the suppressants some more, but doesn’t want to waste anymore of the nurse’s time. “I’m sorry I kept you up.”

 

            “Don’t be sorry, I’m your nurse. You should be able to come to me about these things, it’s what I’m here for, remember?”

 

            He smirks a bit. “Yeah, I remember.”

 

            They walk over to the door, Matt opening it for her. “Goodnight, Claire. Be safe.”

 

            She puts a hand on his cheek, staring into his unseeing eyes. “I should be telling you that.”

 

            “No need, but the sentiment is appreciated.”

 

            She smiles sadly at her friend. “Goodnight, Matt. Get some sleep.”

 

            Matt hears the door shut, turning around he goes straight for the kitchen. The vigilante doesn’t bother with an attempt at sleep, instead he opens up the nearest liquor bottle he can find.

 

…

 

            “You look like crap, my friend,” Foggy announces as soon as Matt brings himself through the office door.

 

            After a night of drinking and debating his very limited options, Matt suspects that he would indeed look like crap. “I wouldn’t know,” he shoots back sourly.

 

            Foggy gets up and out of his desk chair to sling an arm over his best friend’s shoulders. The movement jostles the hungover man, making his head spin. “Cheer up, Matt, I hear our lovely assistant has found us something big.”

 

            Karen walks in at that exact moment, not missing a beat with Foggy’s introduction. “Big is right, The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen paid me a visit last night.”

 

            “What? And you didn’t call the police?”

 

            “Why would I call the police? He saved my life, Foggy,” she rolls her eyes at the shaggy-haired lawyer.

 

            “Because he’s – he’s a bad dude, Karen!”

 

            “I don’t see him that way, plus the guys we’re dealing with are _way_ worse.”

 

            “What did he have to say? Did he threaten you?” Matt asks, already knowing the answer.

 

            “No… I have a lot to tell you guys and some of the things I have to say you’re not going to like.”

 

            Matt pulls two chairs near Foggy’s desk and gestures for Karen to sit down. The two lawyers listen to what Karen has to say: her going over how her former employer contacted her, the bride to keep her quiet, and the undertone of a threat if she didn’t sign. She then went on to explain exactly what the man in the mask had to say and what part he wants her to play in his plans. Her explanation takes almost an hour, Karen wanting to make sure she went over each detail of the meeting twice.

 

            “So the Devil wants us to go with you to do what exactly? Ambush a bunch of lawyers that’ll just block us from actually doing our job.”

 

            “That’s… not exactly why you’re coming. The man in the mask, kind of… wants to use us as bait,” her words come out slightly rushed.

 

            “What? Bait? What do you mean _bait?”_

 

            “They made it abundantly clear if I didn’t accept this deal they’ll come after me. He wants you and Matt to come as well to make it look official,” Karen knows this sounds crazy, especially since Foggy keeps shooting her bewildered looks.

 

            “Some hero he is, he wants to put us in harm’s way! Karen, you can’t honestly be thinking about this…”

 

            “I already thought it over and I’m going whether you come with me or not,” her voice is firm, she refuses to back down on this. She wants to take her life back and this is about the only way she knows how, she’ll be damned if she lets Foggy Nelson talk her out of it.

 

            “We’re not going to let you do this alone, Karen,” Matt’s says calmly, much like his demeanor. Karen shoots him an exasperated smile, knowing full well he can’t see it or appreciate her silent thanks. It’s been such a stressful time for her, not knowing what to do with herself since Daniel’s murder and that stress doubled with meeting his killers. At least now she has a chance to fix her mistake of ever joining up with that company and seek justice for not only what they did to her but to Daniel and his family as well.

 

            “You’re seriously on board with this, Matt? The Devil basically said if you go into that room and say no, you’re going to have a hit put out on you. He’s asking you to put your life on the line and for what? To take down this invisible man? What if something goes wrong? What if he’s working with the enemy, huh? Did you think of that? What if he’s _trying_ to get you guys killed.”

 

            “Why would he want me dead if he saved my life before? It makes no sense, Foggy,” Karen defends not only herself but the masked man, as well.

 

            “Maybe he just really wanted your attacker dead,” Foggy points out.

 

            “You don’t have to come Foggy, I’ll go with her. I’d rather be there with her in case something goes wrong than not be there at all,” Matt decides.

 

            That makes the other lawyer feel somewhat guilty, he wants both of his friends to be safe and yet here they are throwing themselves into danger. Like Hell he’s going to let them put their lives on the line while he just sits and twiddles his thumbs like a lump. “No, I’m coming. If you’re going to be crazy and let a madman guide you into the chaos of vigilantism, I’m sure as heck not letting you do that alone. We’re like the three musketeers! Well, if the three musketeers had a blind guy and a chick in their squad…”

 

            “Well, that settles it. We’re all painting a target on our backs. We should get going though, we have to be at Landman and Zach in an hour.”

 

            “What, we can’t stop for lunch first? I was hoping for a last meal before we sign our death warrants,” Foggy jokes… kind of.

 

            “Don’t worry, Foggy, the man in the mask said he’s going to be there. I doubt he’ll actually let anything happen to us,” Karen sooths.

 

            “Somehow I don’t find that comforting,” mutters the hungry man.

 

            Matt rolls his eyes and picks up his walking stick. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

 

            The three head out of the office, Foggy and Karen talking quietly about the vigilante while Matt listens. He knows the plan is shaky at best, but he’ll be damned if he lets anything happen to his two friends.

 

…

 

            Vladimir kicks a trash can angrily. “This is pointless, we should go back.”

 

            Anatoly watches his brother’s antics, understanding his anger but not his reasoning. “We almost raped our mate, Volodya, we cannot just go back.”

 

            The elder brother growls in frustration, knowing his brother is right but not wanting to admit what they have done. “If he just let us claim him from beginning... This would not be problem.”

 

            “Do you wish him harm?”

 

            “No, shithead. I’m…”

 

            “Angry, yes. I know, brother,” Anatoly helps.

 

            Vladimir leans against the wall of the alleyway, wishing he could kill someone, or at the very least punch something. Murder charges probably won’t be the best way to get back into their omega’s good graces – not that they were in his good graces to begin with. Vladimir’s becoming increasingly annoyed with the situation the omega has put him and his brother in. How’s he supposed to work if he has to worry about Matt finding out? This is very… inconvenient for the crime lord.

 

            Anatoly leans next to him, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He fishes the cigarette out before offering the box to Vlad, who takes it jerkily and taps one into his palm- Anatoly flicks open his zippo and lights his cigarette carefully, before passing it off to his brother. They light up.

 

            “Morals are not our strong suit, my brother,” Anatoly states through a puff of smoke.

 

            “No shit, we own crime ring. Fate is bitch for giving us _hero_ for mate,” he growls between the cig in his mouth.

 

            “Yes,” the younger alpha agrees, somewhat amused at his brother’s frustration.

 

            “Fisk wants him dead,” Vladimir says randomly, well, not that random, the Russian has been throwing around that thought a lot.

 

            “Like you said before, fuck Fisk. We take down that fat fuck and his lap dog, yes?”

 

            He looks over at his brother, giving him a sidelong glance. “I thought you wanted peace.”

 

            “I do. I also want to keep our omega alive,” Anatoly responds, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as he flicks the ash onto the alley floor.

 

            “I do not think he has problem staying alive, he has problem with staying out of trouble.”

 

            They chuckle quietly at that. “Yes, but someday those two will be one and same. He is not god or enhanced… He is crippled. Hearing bullet won’t make him survive it.”

 

            “You think? We saw him fight, he is very,” Vlad searches for the right word, “nimble.”

 

            “Just matter of time, he is just  man. Very strong for omega, but still just man. Would not be surprised if he has already been beaten badly.”

 

            That doesn’t set Vladimir’s mind at ease.

 

            “How are we to protect him from Fisk, if he is not even safe from ourselves?” Vlad knows it’s the alpha in him causing these conflicting feelings. He just wishes he could cut ties with the man and be done with it, sadly for him and his brother that doesn’t seem to be possible.

 

            “We either stay away from Matt or we do what we want and win him over. Claiming him would make things much easier,” Anatoly muses.

 

            “You make it sound simple,” Vladimir huffs, dropping the burnt out cig and squishing it against his boot’s heel.

 

            Anatoly fishes something out of his pocket, holding it in front of them between his thumb and index finger. “Lucky for you, I am smart one. Managed to swipe this off his phone before we left.”

 

            Vlad pinches the slip of paper out of his brother’s grasp, looking over the scrawled numbers before pulling out his phone. He dials the number and while he’s waiting for it to ring he looks over at Anatoly. “This most likely will not help.”

 

            The younger Ranskahov shrugs in a ‘What else are we supposed to do’ manner, making the elder roll his eyes. A phone call won’t change things, but perhaps it will allow the brothers to at least show Matt that they’re trying. Trying counts right?

 

            The other end picks up after the fourth ring. “Hello?” Comes a voice that is most definitely not Matt’s. But most definitely male.

 

            “Who is this?” Vladimir asks warily.

 

            “Who is _this?”_ He replies annoyingly.

 

            “I ask first,” the Russian says, as if that will sway the man on the other end of the phone.

 

            “Yeah, well, I asked second,” it sounds like he’s smirking, Vlad doesn’t like that.

 

            He swears in Russian, about to threaten the annoying man, when Anatoly snatches the phone out of his grasp.

 

            “We are calling for Matthew, is he available?” Asks Anatoly, who’s glaring at his brother.

 

            “Sorry, we’re kind of busy right now… Doing stuff. Why do you need, Matt?”

 

            “We’re his mates,” is all Anatoly says, not bothering with delicacies.

 

            “You’re… You’re his _what?_ No, Matt’s, like, the least omega omega there is. Plus he would have told me,” the man exclaims.

 

            “Well, we are. Who are you?” Suspicion laces its way into the younger Ranskahov’s tone.

 

            “His best friend,” he supplies, before pausing. Anatoly can hear the odd man walking around and a door opens.

 

            His ears perk up at the distant, mangled sound of Matt’s voice. “Foggy, did you manage to take a look at the contract Karen was given? It wasn’t in braille so…”

 

            “Matt, why are two Russians calling you and claiming they’re you’re mate? This is a joke right? Got me good, bud. Why aren’t you smiling? This is the part where you say, ‘Yes, Foggy, me and my good self actually pulled a prank on you’ not frown and mull over my… Oh my god you have two Russian mates,” the man – Foggy – rushes this out all in one breath, so fast Anatoly doesn’t exactly grasp the whole monologue.

 

            Vlad nudges his brother in the side. “What is going on?”

 

            Anatoly crinkles his brows together. “Strange, fast speaking man… Matt is there, calming him down. Something about one of them being a butcher? Fucking Americans.”

 

            “Foggy, give me the phone. Thank you,” Matt’s voice is much clearer now, so much so both brothers can hear him through the speaker, making them scramble to respond.

 

            “Matt?” They both say, huddling over the phone.

 

            “How’d you get this number?” Their omega’s tone is cold, unemotional.

 

            “You should keep phone better protected,” Anatoly gives as explanation.

 

            “Right. Of course you would swipe my phone,” he sighs.

 

            Vladimir takes the cell and paces deeper into the alley. “Why are you with other man? Is he beta? Alpha?”

 

            Anatoly rubs the arch of his nose angrily, knowing his brother already started the conversation with Matt off wrongly. Sometimes his brother can be so rash, it’s impossible to fathom why says just what he says. And questioning what Matt is doing with another man… well, that is not his brother’s smartest move.

 

            “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern, Vladimir. If you’re going to act like a child, please put Anatoly on the phone,” Matt says coolly into the scowling alpha’s ear.

 

            “Just answer question. It is not hard question, mudak.”

 

            Anatoly notes the rising anger in his brother and stalks over to him, tapping him on his arm lightly. He takes the cell into his good hand and attempts to fix what Vladimir has upset. “Vladimir is… not himself,” he excuses weakly.

 

            “He’s definitely himself, he’s an asshole. Look, I don’t have that much time, unlike you two I’m actually trying to make this city a safer place,” Matt’s words are clipped, obviously not pleased with the Russians calling him.

 

            “You are being bait?”

 

            A sigh slips through the receiver, indicating the omega’s weariness. “Yes.”

 

            “Be careful, don’t do anything stupid,” Anatoly tries, hoping Matt will take his words as a peace offering.

 

            “Now you care for my well-being? That’s rich,” he huffs.

 

            “Matt, we did not… What happened last night - we will learn control. I promise you that,” Anatoly’s voice is soft, tilting on the edge of sincerity and regret.

 

            “I let my guard down, that won’t happen again,” Matt pauses, as if debating on saying anything else, when Anatoly hears in the background his friend beckoning the omega back to whatever it is they’re doing. “I’ve got to go,” is all he says before hanging up.

 

            Anatoly keeps the phone to his ear for a moment before pocketing the tiny device. “You are idiot, my brother.”

 

            Vladimir shrugs, not caring if Anatoly is angry at him. He asked valid question, even if his mate and brother did not see it as such.

 

            Anatoly shakes his head at his brother’s antics. “Now what?”

 

            “How upset did he sound?”

 

            “Not upset, just tired.”

 

            Vlad smirks slightly, walking up to his brother he picks the cigarette pack out of his pocket. Pawing for a stick, he takes out his own lighter, burning the end of the cig. “We can work with tired. I say we go back to apartment and fix what is broken,” the older brother decides, sticking the cigarette in between his lips.

 

            They walk out the alley, the two brothers confident in their steps that leadF them to their omega’s apartment.

 

 

 

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volodya - Vladimir


	6. Scar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt, Karen, and Foggy wave their bait-y asses in front of Wesley's face. The three come into a surprise when they decide to stay at Matt's apartment and for some weird reason the author has a Russian smoker kink. (So sorry). Anyways, the gang decide it's time for a change of scenery. (I guess they're a gang now?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have two betas for this one... but only one has beta-ed it so far, so there may be some changes in a bit. Also so, so, so sorry for the wait on this chapter... it's been a long ass month for me but I'll try to make a better schedule for this story. The russian translation I got from google translate, so if anyone wants to correct those for me just shoot me a comment. I hope you guys like this chapter and thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! Keep being awesome:)

            Matt sits down in the spacious room, two accelerated heartbeats next to him and three steady ones sitting across from them. “Ms. Page,” an orotund voice booms, “I thought we agreed to keep this little arrangement to ourselves?”

 

            “Now, now, Mr. Baker – I assume you are Mr. Baker, correct? Our client is simply looking out for her best interests. You cannot honestly expect her to not discuss this deal with her lawyers?”

 

            He sits back, a small smile on his face as the hero listens to the slight spike of blood flow in the older gentleman’s body. This is why he became a lawyer, to put old alphas like this one’s underwear in a knot. A lot of the occupations in the world are overtaken by one of the three rankings and lawyering leans towards the alpha side. Matt, being an omega, is one of those rare firecrackers that no one actually expects to talk in meetings nor know what’s going on. Let alone think he’s capable of passing at the top of his class. So like hell he’s going to stay silent when his friend needs him most… Even if he’s the one who put her in this situation to begin with.

 

            “Mr. Nelson,” the man starts, thinking he’s the alpha.

 

            “I’m Murdock, he’s Nelson,” Matt nods towards his partner to the left of him.

 

            The two lawyers on either side of Wesley shift uncomfortably, while he’s the only one who isn’t taken aback by the omega. He’s done his research, that’s the right hand man’s job after all. Any connections towards Karen Page have been looked at under the scrutiny of Fisk’s best man and Matthew Murdock definitely stood out among the rest of her past and present relations. Tragic back story, impressive ambitions, and a most interesting destination for the omega. If the man isn’t being a thorn in Wesley’s side, he might be amused. But now, he is just a nuisance.

 

            “Ms. Page, you do understand that since you did discuss past events with these two the offer is now off the table. If you think we will still cut you a deal because you brought two… lawyers, you are sadly mistaken,” his voice is cold as is his smile.

 

            Karen’s about to respond but Matt gently places his hand on her arm to silence her. “Mr. Wesley, I think you misunderstand our intentions. We aren’t here for money, but rather compensation of a different form. You traded a man’s life to keep your front safe, we all know this, yet no one does anything about it. I like to think of myself as a man who upholds justice and I have yet to see any justice brought upon you and your fellow associates,” Matt states, adjusting his glasses ever so slightly at the end.

 

            Wesley’s irritation rises up, not liking what the man across from him is implicating. His smile thins into something sharp, Foggy notes that it makes him look more like a shark than a man. “I did not take you for a stupid man, Mr. Murdock.”

 

            “I am simply doing my civic duty, I cannot say the same for you.”

 

            “Mr. Wesley, perhaps we should have a slight recess,” one of his lawyers suggests.       

 

            Matt hears the man nod but his gaze still burns into him even as the omega leaves the room. As soon as he’s out of the doorway, Foggy’s hand seizes his shoulder, gripping him tight.

 

            “So about that phone call,” he starts.

 

            “Is this really the best time, Foggy?”

 

            “If it was up to you, there’d never be a good time. Don’t push this off, Matt. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you have a mate?”

 

            “Actually two… And they’re not my mates, at least not fully. We didn’t bond,” Matt keeps his voice monotone, to avoid any of the shakiness he feels.

 

            “Why not? Well, besides the fact that one of them is obviously a dick,” Foggy asks.

 

            “Because it’s just that, they _are_ dicks. I can’t associate myself with them,” he bites out, still angry from last night.

 

            “But they’re your true mates though, right? There’s gotta be something good about them or they wouldn’t be paired up with Matt Murdock: Avocado at Law.”

 

            “Trust me, Foggy, these are the type of people lawyers try to avoid – at least the good ones. And I’m tethered to two of them,” Matt knows he’s complaining, knows it’s a bad time, but being able to let Foggy know how he feels… it’s relieving.

 

            “How’d you meet them?”

 

            “I… met them while attempting to profile our faceless man case,” the secret hero explains.

 

            “They work for the puppeteer of this whole thing? _Matt,”_ that last part comes out in an angry hiss.

 

            Fingers grip his arm, digging into his suit and leaving ghost bruises on his skin. “It’s not like I had any say in the matter, Foggy. I’m trying to stay away but it’s complicated.”

 

            “Complicated how? I mean besides the whole True Mate thing, that is.”

 

            “They’re helping me build a case against him, giving me intel on just who he is and what he’s planning,” Matt says this warily, knowing Foggy might question just how he’s doing all this.

 

            “So… what exactly do they do?”

 

            That’s the exact question Matt was hoping the other lawyer wouldn’t ask.

 

            “Foggy –” he starts.

 

            “No, no, no. Don’t ‘Foggy’ me, Matt Murdock. We’re a team, always have been, you are _not_ holding out on me now,” he scolds.

 

            Too bad this is the smaller of the two secrets Matt is neglecting to tell his best friend.

 

            Matt pulls Foggy into the corner. “Okay,” he breathes out quietly, “okay. Before I tell you, you need to promise you will not – and I mean this, Foggy – freak out or make any indication that I just told you this. Nor bring it up at any point in time around anyone other than myself, for all of our protection, all right?”

 

            Foggy rolls his eyes. “Don’t lawyer out on me, Matt. I can keep a secret, plus maybe we can branch out. If they’re as bad as you make them, they’ll need a good lawyer. But they’ll have to pay extra.”

 

            Matt groans, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “This isn’t a joke, I need you to promise me this.”

 

            He pats Matt’s cheek, not liking the defeated tone Matt’s using. “Alright, buddy. I promise, your super-secret secret will be safely guarded. My lips are as sealed as government files. It’s all classified up in here, pinky swear,” he affirms and actually lifts his hand up, pinky out.

 

            “Oh my god, I’m best friends with a child,” he bemoans playfully, wrapping his finger around Foggy’s.

 

            “You are too, Murdock. You just like to hide it, while I embrace my inner youth. Now, spill.”

 

            Matt straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin. “They’re Russian crime lords,” he states under his breath.

 

            To Foggy’s credit his throat only hitches slightly, a sound only Matt can hear. Though his vitals do skyrocket to an alarming rate, his friend doesn’t make any outrageous indication to what he just said. The two fumble with words to say, Foggy too confused to say anything and Matt not wanting to make the situation any worse.

 

            “Guys? What’s up? Did something happen?” Karen’s voice interrupts the two lawyers’ corner meeting.

 

            “I… just had to tell Matt about this really great program that I stumbled upon,” Foggy forces out.

 

            “Oh, what’s the program?”

 

            “Uhm, you know, I forget the name of it… Something weird. It’s, ah, for omegas with disabilities. Somewhere to, erm, vent I guess. I’m neither omega nor blind so I really have no clue what it’s about. I’m pretty sure it’d be a great program or it could be a human trafficking ring, who knows. Am I rambling? I feel like I’m rambling. Oh, hey, look the suits are going back into the meeting room. Maybe we should go in, yeah?”

 

            Karen’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Uh, yeah, we can. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be over soon, don’t you guys think? All we needed to do was ruffle some feathers and I’m pretty sure we did just that. Now all we have to do is wait.”

 

            Matt straightens his tie, trying to relieve the pressure that is constricting around his throat. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they ordered a hit on us already.”

 

            He ushers his friends into the corner office, taking their former seats. No one says anything for a moment, everyone assessing the tension in the air rather than adding to it.

 

            Matt pulls out a pile of papers from his brief case, evening the small stack before sliding them across the table. “I am sure you understand that a lawsuit is the last thing that any of us want. They’re messy, long, and will most likely cost more than Ms. Page is willing to spend. So, we are here to make an arrangement of sorts. You cut ties with your illicit activities – and trust me when I say that I will be notified if such a thing happens – or we go to the media. Now, something as grisly as killing one of your own employees to cover your financial tracks is sure to make a very scandalous story, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

            “You honestly believe we are going to allow you three to waltz in here and demand our client to stop ‘illicit activities’ when you have no proof? What type of lawyers are you? No, we are not signing any contract for some any sort of compensation. We were generous enough to offer Ms. Page money for the traumatic experience this company has put her through, not to _bribe_ her into silence,” the older lawyer exclaims.

 

            “That’s bullshit and you know it,” Karen shouts, her chair rolls back before ricocheting off the wall from her sudden stance.

 

            “We could have ended this civilly, Ms. Page. You are leaving us with no choice, I suggest you and your… guests leave before you upset the peace,” Wesley says calmly as he glances down at his pristine nails.

 

            “So, to confirm, you are not signing the contract?” Foggy asks, already knowing the answer.

 

            “We’ll get back to you on that,” Wesley’s younger lawyer speaks up for the first time. She seems new, unsure of just what she has gotten into. _That could be useful for later,_ Matt muses mentally.

 

            He stands up. “Alright, thank you for your time, Wesley, Baker… Ms. Donavon. We’ll be in touch.”

 

            The only response they receive is a low hum from Wesley, something deep from the back of his throat. They ignore it, knowing full well that they’ll be seeing either him or one of his goons fairly soon. Matt opens the door and lets Foggy and Karen out in front of him. As he closes the door, he hears the murmured whispers of Wesley, “Get the Russians, I have a job for them.”

 

            Matt shuts the door.

 

…

 

            Matt opens his door.

 

            “You guys can crash here for a while, until the hit at least.”

 

            “Oh my god, Matt! Foggy! They’re already here,” Karen panics.

 

            “What?” Foggy runs into the living room where he heard the thud of bags hitting the ground. Matt is right behind him, mad at himself for not observing his surroundings before letting his friends inside.

 

            “Karen, please calm down. They’re not here to hurt you, rather to give me a headache,” Matt tries to sooth the blonde’s rapid heartbeat.

 

            Vladimir eyes the two strangers up and down. “These are your friends, yes?”

 

            “Why are you here?” Matt ignores the question.

 

            “Wanted to see you,” Vlad shrugs, though his shoulders are tense. He doesn’t like the fact that the shaggy male is so close to his omega.

 

            “So you break in? Matt, I take it back, your mates don’t compliment you. They’re heathens,” Foggy wrinkles his nose in distaste.

 

            Anatoly puts his hand on Vladimir’s shoulder, to stop his brother from making any movements towards the pudgy alpha. “We had phone call with lap dog. He wants our men to deal with you,” he confirms Matt’s suspicions.

 

            “I thought so, this is good and bad. They still believe you’re on their side but that won’t be a lingering belief for long unless you actually go through with the hit.”

 

            “Wait, wait. Hold up. You have a _mate?_ Since when?” Karen butts in, not caring at all when the two Russians’ eyes land on her.

 

            “Since… a couple of days ago.”

 

            “Which one?” She asks it, as if she’s hoping for one over the other, making Matt’s defensiveness rise up.

 

            “Both,” he says bluntly, walking away from his friends and past his mates, picking up Karen’s dropped bags on his way. “You can stay in the bedroom, Karen.”

 

            “Wouldn’t it be easier to just put you and your… partners in the bedroom? It would leave more room out in the living room,” Karen suggests.

 

            “I never said they were staying.”

 

            “You cannot kick us out, Matthew,” Anatoly argues, “our cover will be blown soon and then shit will hit fan.”

 

            “Can I talk to you two for a moment, please?” Matt asks the question politely but it was anything but a suggestion.

 

            Vladimir doesn’t move, too busy eying Matt’s guests. Anatoly takes a deep, weary breath and pulls his brother into the bedroom. “Now is not time for pissing contest, brother.”

 

            Vlad grins slyly. “Always time for pissing contest.”

 

            Matt closes the door as soon as they’re past the doorframe. He listens to Foggy’s and Karen’s muttering through the wall, Foggy trying to explain Matt’s mates without giving too much away. The brothers in question, stand in the middle of the room, Anatoly with his arms crossed and Vladimir clasping his right hand against his wrist. Both of them shifting in their spots, waiting for the omega to say something.

 

            “Why are you two here? I don’t remember inviting you back over nor giving you a key.”

 

            “To be fair, we are crime lords, we don’t exactly need key to get in,” Anatoly quips.

 

            “Look,” Matt grits out, “my friends have no idea about my… nightly activities and I’d like to keep them out of it. You two are a part of said activities, how the hell do you think I’m going to explain all of this to them?”

 

            “We are in your night activities?” Vladimir rumbles.

 

            Matt takes his glasses off and rubs his palm harshly against his face. “Dear god, I am mated with children. Can’t you take this seriously? Lives are on the line here.”

 

            Vladimir slowly steps towards the tense man. “Forgive me,” he murmurs once he’s touching distance. “I am not used… to any of this. What happened last night… that should not have happened. All I know is I want to protect you, not hurt.”

 

            Anatoly raises an eyebrow at his brother, surprised at his words. Vladimir has never been one to apologize for any action whatsoever, let alone make his intentions known. He knows he cares but never once has he admitted it to Anatoly, his actions always spoke louder than any snide comment or angry spew.

 

            Matt swallows thickly, staggered by Vladimir’s apology. “I don’t need protection,” he says immediately, though he knows everyone in the room knows this. “But… I accept your apology.”

 

            Anatoly watches the two, taking in the obvious discomfort of the omega and the anxious movement of his brother’s hand worrying at his earlobe.

 

            “We will keep secret, you have no fear from us revealing you to your friends,” Anatoly says in an attempt to break the tension.

 

            Matt itches his eyebrow, still uncomfortable but thankful for Anatoly’s distraction. “Thank you.”

 

            Vladimir backs off, moving past his brother to sit on the bed. “Do they know of Fisk?” He asks.

 

            “They know there’s a head that needs to be cut off, but they don’t know anything about him. I didn’t want to tell them because there’s no way I’d be able to explain how I found that information, that is until now. We’ll need to tell them sooner rather than later, if we want any of this to work.”

 

            “What about the bounty over your head? Are we just going to ignore that? Fisk wants blood, your blood,” Vlad reminds.

 

            “How loyal are your men?”

 

            Both Anatoly and Vladimir puff their chests up, insulted that the omega would even question the loyalty of their pack. “Our men know who their alphas are, Fisk is not one of them,” the younger Ranskahov states.

 

            “So, who would he go to next for the hit?”

 

            “There is my brother and I, Owlsley, – the bookkeep – Gao, and Nobu. Owlsley and Gao are least likely, Gao being Fisk’s equal, perhaps even superior, and bookkeep is spineless, old fool. Nobu would be Fisk’s first go to, though I do not doubt his organization has backing for lethal force, from what I hear the man is warrior. He would attack you alone, no men needed,” Anatoly pans out.

 

            “I do not like this,” Vladimir huffs. “Nobu is not one to be taken lightly. Angry man, fiery fighter.”

 

            “You think I can’t take him?” Matt asks.

 

            Vladimir motions to his brother, who rolls his eyes and hands him a smoke. “You can,” he says, lighting the cigarette. “But not without losing something in return. You wish not to kill, the only way to defeat man like Nobu is through death.”

 

            “Put out the cigarette, Vladimir. It reeks,” sneers the vigilante. He can already smell the smoke seeping into his sheets, _great._

            Vlad grunts, not pleased with Matt telling him what to do nor having to put out a perfectly good smoke. He squishes the thing in between his thumb and finger, but blows out the last puff of smoke in the omega’s direction. “Happy?”

 

            Matt’s nose wrinkles at the stale smell. “I won’t kill Nobu.”

 

            “We will,” Vladimir responds.

 

            Anatoly rubs his jaw. “What my brother means is that we will do what is needed to keep you and your friends safe. If that means his demise, well, better you alive than him, no?”

 

            “How are you to fight him without giving identity away to blondes?”

 

            Matt sits on the other side of the bed, his shoulders heavy and his head aching. “I’m not sure, I haven’t thought that part out yet.”

 

            “Would it not be easier if you tell them truth?” Anatoly questions as he walks over to Matt. He leans against the wall opposite of him.

 

            “I need to keep them safe,” he rejects the idea immediately.

 

            “Safe?” Vladimir laughs dryly. “Safe is not putting a bounty out on them. They are as safe as children in mine field, death is most likely.”

 

            “Vladimir,” Anatoly warns his brother.

 

            The words hit Matt like a sledgehammer. “No, he’s right. I put them in danger for the rest of the city. I just… they won’t understand, Karen might but Foggy hates everything that the Devil stands for. Maybe I’m just trying to protect myself.”

 

            Both the brothers look at the omega, taking in the way he sits straight.

 

            “I should tell them,” the hero decides.

 

            “Don’t be stupid,” Vladimir disagrees.

 

            “Pick a side already,” Matt huffs.

 

            “What if Fisk gets hold of them? Tortures them for information and they squeal like pigs before death? Do not give that fuckhead the pleasure.”

 

            Anatoly nods, for once understanding his brother’s thought process. “They may be in danger because of the masked man but they do not need to be in danger because of you.”

 

            “Great, so now what? I keep lying to them and hope the only Fisk does is try to kill them? That doesn’t sound like a very good plan, guys.”

 

            “May not be good plan, but is plan nonetheless.”

 

            Matt pushes himself up off the bed, walking towards the door. “Fine,” he says. “We’ll go with your plan, but we tell them about Fisk. They at least deserve that much.”

 

            The brothers nod and Matt opens the door.

 

            Karen and Foggy are in the kitchen, both of them huddles over Matt’s coffee machine. “Hey, look, the three love birds are up and ready to chat,” Foggy exclaims.

 

               “On mne ne nravitsya,” Vlad mutters quietly to his brother.

 

                Anatoly laughs, patting him on the shoulder. “Play nice,” he chides back in Vlad’s ear.

 

                “There are some things that we need to talk about. About what we’ve gotten ourselves into and just what we have to do to prepare.”

 

                Karen and Foggy nod, pouring all five of us coffees. The other lawyer makes Matt’s coffee for him, knowing exactly what the blind man likes: two sugars and crème. “Here you go, Matty.”

 

                He smiles thankfully at his best friend. “Thanks, Fog.”

 

                Vladimir tries to control the jealousness that piques inside of him, not liking the familiarity between the Matt and the other alpha. The two Russians pick up the untouched coffee and Anatoly reveals the flask he has hidden in his pocket. He dunks the liquid into the steaming cups, knowing his brother has the same taste pallet when it comes to coffee, which would be little coffee with a lot of alcohol.

 

                “The man that is after this city, his name is Wilson Fisk. He has fingers in all criminal activity in Hell’s Kitchen. My brother and I, we are the muscle, transport many things… Drugs, people, the like and tend to make problems go away. Been pissing him off though,” Anatoly looks pointedly at his brother, “and we have reason to believe he wants us gone.”

 

                Karen’s eyes go wide, her mouth opening in a small ‘o’ shape. “You… you’re the ones that tried to kill me then? _Matt,_ your mates are insane!”

 

                “That was us… well one of our men, yes. You were problem, needed to be taken care of, no reason we should not swept under rug,” Vladimir replies, oh-so-helpfully.

 

 

                “Matt, you can’t seriously think we’re going to work Scar Face over here, are you?”

 

 

                “What did you call me, durak?” Vlad snarls at Foggy.

 

                Matt quickly makes his way over to the easily angered Russian, he grips his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Hey, calm down, will you?”

 

                Instantly, his focus is on the omega, surprised at the fact that he’s actually touching him. Vladimir begrudgingly nods and grunts out, “Fine.”               

   

               Matt’s presence is immediately gone and it takes a second for Vlad to realize that his drink is, as well. Before he can comment, the blind man says, “Like hell I’m going to let you get drunk in my apartment. And, Foggy, try not to piss him off, please.”

               

              “What? It’s not my fault he can’t take a joke,” the blond defends himself.

 

                Matt, Karen, and Anatoly roll their eyes at the two bickering alphas, not at all surprised by their behavior. “Back to problem,” Anatoly interrupts their arguing.

 

                “Since Fisk called the hit out on us for the Russian mafia to complete, it’s not going to take long for him to figure out their change in heart,” Matt explains, sitting down on the couch. Anatoly perches on the arm rest, calmly drinking his contaminated drink and Vladimir notes how the hero doesn’t confiscate it.

 

 

                “What about the man in the mask?” Karen brings up.

 

                “What about him?” Anatoly asks.

 

                “Well, he was the nut job who put us up to being a tasty plate of bait,” Foggy snarks.

 

 

                It’s not like the vigilante can just come to them without making an excuse for Matt’s absence. This is the one flaw in their plan, trying to keep the hero’s identity a secret. Let alone have him protect Karen and Foggy while Matt is supposed to be with them at all times. Vladimir, Anatoly, and Matt all know this, but it doesn’t make the task any easier to overcome.

 

                “I’m not sure how we’re going to contact him, he seems like the type to contact you… not the other way around.”

 

                “What do we do in the meantime? Right now we’re sitting ducks, I’m more of a lazing cat than a bird of prey, if you catch my drift,” Foggy says.               

 

                “Lazing being key term,” Vlad smirks.

 

                “Matt, did your boy toy just call me pudgy? I think he called me pudgy, Matt,” Foggy whines, glaring at the scarred Russian.

 

                “I have idea,” Anatoly ignores the two. “What if we take you in, this apartment is small, unprotected. Whereas our pack home is large, protected, and Fisk will have harder time finding you.”

 

                Vladimir seems to the only other person in the room who likes the idea.

 

 

                “Like hell I’m sleeping in a room full of killers and traffickers, human or drug wise,” Foggy says.

 

                “What if the masked man thinks they kidnapped us? Or can’t find us? Shouldn’t we stick to his plan?” Karen’s words are tilting on the verge of anxiety.

 

                Matt, on the other hand, is trying to grasp for reasons to say no. “What if there’s a traitor in your pack? It’d be easier to kill us in our sleep, when we’re least expecting it than when our guards are up.”

 

                Vladimir huffs in annoyance, “For two lawyers and girl who escaped Fisk’s wrath once already, you are all stupid. Plan is solid, better than staying here, waiting to be killed. Our base is safe, plenty guns and loyal men bound by pack law, we take you into pack and they are bound to keep your protection.”

 

                It’s all true, a pack bond is almost as strong as a bond to mates. Each pack member is connected, when one is in pain, the others feel it. The only problem with pack bonding is that they’re highly unstable, too many pack members and one wrong addition to the pack and it sets every single member off. And from what Matt can tell, the Russians’ pack is huge and diverse, he’s almost impressed that none of them have fallen to insanity yet.

 

                “Can I even join? Last time I checked, alphas don’t seem to add other alphas into their packs,” Foggy points out.

 

                “We have some other alphas in our pack, loyal to us for long time. You do not seem like type to cause any upstarts and if Matt wants you safe, we will accept you,” Anatoly allows.

 

                “I’m a beta, are you going to force a bond on me?” Her voice is strong, but Matt can sense the fear in her. It’s a common thing to happen in packs, especially packs like a Russian mafia, they’ll take healthy betas and omegas for their men to mate to.

 

                “No, I very much doubt Matt would allow us to do such a thing,” he says.

 

                “I’d break your other hand if you did,” he confirms coolly. 

 

               “Woah, you did that, Matty?”

 

                Anatoly hides his hand behind his coffee cup, not pleased at it being the subject of attention. “Yes, he did, for my brother’s stupidity. Now, let’s move on, yes?”

 

                “I don’t know if I can just sign myself, Foggy, and Karen off to your pack.”

 

                “Why not?” Vladimir questions.

 

                “Last time I checked we are on the right side of the law, joining the Russian mafia doesn’t sound very justified.”

 

                “It is justified, it is for your protection. Would you rather be found in alley dead?”

 

                “He does have a point there, Matt,” Karen says.

 

                “Karen! Bad! Agreeing with crime lords is not an okay thing,” Foggy cries.

 

                “We’re running out of options, Foggy!”

 

                “At least come to our base, you do not need to join… Just be safe,” Anatoly directs the words to Matt, but extends the invitation to his companions.

 

                Matt looks in the direction of his friends. “It’s up to them, not me.”

 

                Karen nudges Foggy. “It can’t hurt to stay there, right?”

 

                He can hear his best friend’s pain as he responds, “I guess… not.”

 

                Vladimir walks over to Foggy and clasps his hand onto the disturbed man’s shoulder. “You will like it,” he rumbles quietly so the only person who can hear the words is Matt. “Very fun in the cells.”

 

                “Oh my god, please tell me that was a joke, that has to be a joke. You don’t actually have chambers. Oh shit, Matt,” Foggy calls out to his friend, scrambling towards him like he just saw the devil.

 

                “Calm down, Foggy, he was kidding… Probably,” Matt attempts to sooth.

 

                “We’re all screwed aren’t we?”

 

                He doesn’t answer, mainly because with each passing moment that statement is becoming scarily true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I do not like him  
> 2\. Fool


End file.
